


And Then You Kissed Me

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Future Fic, Get Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Nursey Week, Polyamory, Tumblr Prompts, Various ships, established relationships - Freeform, happy endings, mentions of transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9633521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Derek Nurse is a fandom treasure and deserves all the love.  This is a compilation of all the prompts from Nursey Week.  Ships will vary, listed in the notes of each chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Nursey Week](https://nurseyweek.tumblr.com/post/156007019874/nursey-week-update)
> 
> Day One: Silence
> 
> Pairing: Nursey/Ransom
> 
> Rating: Gen

The haus was quiet. Surprisingly so for a Thursday which usually had at least some of the boys home. Nursey had taken to studying there instead of the dorms--because it was quiet, and also because he often had a full view of Ransom reading, watching TV, doing squats with Bits...in general being gorgeous and unattainable.

He was dealing with feelings. Confusing feelings. He knew he was attracted to other genders, but he hadn’t been this keen on someone in...possibly ever. It was a little upsetting, and distracting. He knew he should stay away, try and let this pass.

It had become obvious that Ransom wasn’t with Holster--platonic soulmates and cuddle buddies and ride or die bros and whatever the hell else they were. But at the last party when Nursey had brought it up in the kitchen, Bitty had merely laughed and said, “Oh hon, they’re not together, together. That’s just...how they are.”

Knowing Ransom was taken had taken the edge off the crush for a while but now...

He had a small hope Ransom was straight but he’d gone with him up to the attic to see if he had one of his old bio text books Nursey could borrow, and he’d seen Mashkov plastered all over his bunk.

“Favourite player?”

Ransom had proceeded to wax poetic for nearly twenty minutes about Mashkov’s stats, and stick-handling skills---and his abs and ass and gorgeous smile. “I’d marry him, if he’d have me. But that would probably be weird for Jack.”

So yeah. That didn’t help.

It was just...Ransom was not only uninterested in him, but relationships were always more trouble than they were worth. At least, that’s what he told himself, because it made feeling lonely a little easier to bear.

Walking into the haus now, seeing no one, he was a little worried. “This is how those zombie movies start,” he muttered to himself. “Brown guy all alone, about to get eaten by a mob of the undead to open the scene.”

He paused in the kitchen. There were a couple pies cooling, and a note saying DO NOT TOUCH. But that was it. Briefly he freaked out, thinking he was missing a fucking game or something, but he knew better. They weren’t playing until Monday so he was in the clear.

Heading up the stairs, he knocked on Bitty’s room, but no answer. Chowder’s door was open, but the lights were all off, and there wasn’t a sound coming from Lardo’s.

His last ditch effort was the attic, which usually had at least music going, but it was total silence. There was a light on, though, so Nursey knocked, then poked his head in. He was startled to find Ransom there, alone, flat on his back with his knee crooked up, and one arm flung over his eyes.

“Not now,” Ransom said.

“Sorry,” Nursey replied in a hurry. “I was just um. Never mind. I’ll go.”

Ransom’s arm dragged away from his face, and he pushed up into a half-sitting position. “No wait, what’s up, bro? You okay?”

“Uh.” Nursey rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “Yeah? I had a bad day but...whatever, you know. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t even live here and bugging you guys...”

“Bro,” Ransom said, his voice soft but commanding.

“Cap,” Nursey chirped.

Ransom rolled his eyes, then shifted over and pat the bed next to him. “My day was a fucking shit show. But if you can like...lay here in silence, you can stay.”

He almost said no, but in all reality, there wasn’t a force on the planet that would have him turning down a chance to do this. Laying in silence next to Justin Oluransi was probably the only thing he ever wanted to do.

He breathed carefully as he crossed the room. Kicking off his shoes, he pushed them under the bed, and slid on top of the duvet. It was a tight squeeze. Nursey’s shoulder dug into Ransom’s, and their pinky fingers brushed as their hands rested on the mattress.

Ransom flung his arm over his eyes again, and the silence settled over them.

After what felt like an eternity, just as Nursey felt like maybe he was dropping off into a doze, a warm hand covered his. Justin spread his fingers, slotting them between Nursey’s, his palm to the back of Nursey’s hand.

“This okay?” he asked softly.

“Mmhmm,” Nursey replied, not trusting himself to use proper words just yet.

There was another long moment of silence. Then Ransom said, “Sometimes it feels like there’s no safe space anywhere. Like...you have to defend every fucking thing you are to a bunch of people who are just looking for reasons to devalue you, you know? You start looking for people who are like you, like maybe they’ll get it and step in and make everyone else shut up, and then you remember that we grow up convinced that our shit is...less than.”

Nursey swallowed. He understood, in a non-complex way, what Justin was saying. Not like he experienced it the same. Nursey existed a lot of times in a sort of limbo, too brown to be white, too white to be brown. A carefully cultivated persona of Chill, to keep people off his back or assuming he was just the angry brown man. He lived in fear of the well-meaning white people who wanted to know if his middle name was Muslim, or what it was like to have two moms. Did he think that two moms made him gay? The lectures he had to listen to from Dex about why can’t he recognise his own privilege--he grew up with a NY Times best seller parent--how could he possibly know what growing up hard was like? There was a bitter sort of irony in the fractured friendship and hockey superstitions he’d developed with his teammate.

So yeah. He kind of got it. He’d never understand exactly what Ransom meant. But he sure as hell understood what that particular thing felt like inside his bones.

“Is that what the quiet is for?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Ransom said, breathy and tired. He carefully turned Nursey’s hand so they were palm to palm and Nursey didn’t even try to pretend this time that his heart wasn’t thumping out of his chest, or that his breathing was hitched and shakey. “Have I ever told you I think you’re cute?”

“Uh. No,” he said.

Ransom laughed. “Shit. Well. I do. You can bail if this is getting too weird for you.”

Nursey squeezed his eyes shut before letting them fall open. He felt the warmth of Ransom’s palm shooting up his arm. “Can I turn over?”

“Yes.”

He did. His eyes fixed on Ransom’s face, letting himself linger, take his time to trace every feature, every dip and curve. He let himself get lost in Ransom’s eyes, and he found his other hand which wasn’t pinned between them, coming up to brush along Ransom’s jawline.

“I think you’re cute, too.” God that sounded like the stupidest fucking thing ever but...the way Ransom kind of lit up, it was everything. “I uh. Should have said.”

“We probably wasted some pretty sweet make-out sessions,” Ransom agreed sagely.

Nursey’s mouth immediately went dry, and he tried to pull his hand away becuase fuck, he was kind of nervous now but...he couldn’t. Justin grabbed him by the wrist and pressed his hand back, fully against his cheek.

“You wanna make out right now?”

Nursey tried to be smooth, but he was as clumsy with his mouth as he was with his limbs. “Ch’yeah. But can we go on a date too or is this just...”

“I’m gonna date the living fuck out of you,” Ransom said, then he leant in and their mouths met. It was soft, a slow pulling and pushing, tongues seeking and brushing together warm and so fucking soft that Nursey kind of wanted to cry.

He didn’t. But just barely. He let himself push forward though, so they were chest to chest, and Ransom’s arm came round his waist tight and firm, hitching him close.

When he pulled away, their noses brushed together, and Nursey found himself grinning.

“I’m glad I came over.”

Ransom laughed, and shuffled down so he could be held, his face up against Nursey’s neck. He breathed out, hot and a little wet against Nursey’s pulse-point, and he nodded. “Me too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nursey Week Day Two: Simplicity
> 
> Pairing: Nursey/Chowder/Farmer
> 
> Rating: Gen

She found him at the library, staring at the page of his maths text with a dead look in his eye. When he sniffled, and wiped his nose on his sleeve, she knew it was time to call it a day.

“Come on,” she said, slipping her hand against the back of his neck.

Nursey looked up, vaguely startled. “Oh. Cait, hey.”

She shook her head. “Come on,” she said again, increasing the pressure a fraction.

Nursey scrubbed a hand down his face, sniffled again, then said, “How long have you been standing there?”

“A lot longer than you wanna know. Come on, Chris is waiting.”

From the way he just sat there as she loaded his books and papers back into his bag, it was obvious he wasn’t feeling well. He only just noticed they weren’t heading back to the dorms when they turned the corner, and the Haus came into view.

“Aww wait no. I was there like every night this week. I don’t even live there.”

Caitlyn laughed, her head shaking. “Yeah uh...you kinda do, and I don’t think anyone is going to care. Bitty’s baking pot pies for dinner anyway. Which you love.”

He did. He did love. But he was feeling really gross and frankly peeling off all his clothes, sliding into cool sheets, and closing his eyes was so much more appealing. And really, he didn’t want to over-stay his welcome.

“Cait, really. They don’t need to see some guy...Chris doesn’t need me all up in his space all the time and my room is perfectly fine for me to...”

“Derek,” she said, and her commanding tone had him quieting almost immediately. She brought the back of his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles softly. “Don’t make this more complicated than it is. He wants you there, I want you there. And no one complains about either of us. It’s a big enough bed for three, and we love you. You feel like shit, so let us just...take care of you, okay?”

He opened his mouth to protest, but the aches in his limbs chose that moment to remind him he wasn’t at top form. He let out a sigh and shrugged. “Okay. Fine.” He didn’t feel particuarly happy about it. He hadn’t done much to try and get dibs for a room, anyway.

He liked it there. He liked it a lot better than the loud dorms, but he didn’t crave the space there the way Dex did. Nursey never really felt comfortable grovelling for acceptance. He did that enough as it was, on college and job applications--something he’d be doing the rest of his life, really. He had money, but he understood the reality of the world he lived in.

Still, maybe he was over-thinking this bit. Because he knew no one minded. No one had ever given him The Look. He never felt unwelcome. Bitty always had pie and a smile, and a quick, “Hey sweetheart, how was your day? Do you need anything?”

Ransom and Holster were always excited to see him, dragging him into whatever they were getting up to. Lardo was always available if he just wanted a quiet place to rest his head.

Chris was...different. Chris was warm hands and a soft place to land. Chris was quiet words of affirmation with fingers brushing gently through his hair. Chris was a place he didn’t need to be anything other than just himself--no matter what he was in that moment.

And Cait. Cait with her commanding presence that never made him feel like an outsider, even if he had come second. Cait who just held him when he needed it, and knocked him round the head a bit when he was getting ahead of himself.

It was complicated, but so simple.

They reached the Haus steps and she didn’t bother knocking, or stopping to say hello. She propelled him straight up the stairs with a hand at the small of his back. When Chowder’s door opened, he stepped in to a small, surprised gasp, and a bright grin.

“Oh hey! Hi. You found him.”

Cait laughed. “Library, like you thought. Why don’t you get him settled and I’ll get us food. I hear Bits singing Sia in the kitchen.”

Chowder laughed, and stood up from his chair, abandoning his book in favour of taking the zip on Nursey’s hoodie and dragging it down. The zipper broke apart at the same time as the door clicked shut, and Nursey didn’t fight as his hoodie was removed, and his jeans next.

In his t-shirt and boxers, he let Chowder lead him to the bed. It was soft--the sheets less cool because they were flannel, but they were no-less inviting. He found himself sighing as his head fell into the pillow. It smelt of oranges and something else--almost peppery. It was some fancy shampoo Chowder’s mother sent in his care packages, and it was one of the first things Nursey noticed about the goalie.

He buried his face in the pillow, breathed in, and thought, I never want to live without this.

He felt careful, calloused fingers at the back of his neck, a gentle pressure. “What can I do?”

“Mmph,” Nursey said, a mouthful of fabric. He turned his face. “Seriously, babe, like I told Cait, I’m fine. Just tired. I don’t even have to be here if you two want some space.”

Chowder blinked at him. “From you?”

Nursey shrugged as best he could from his prone position. “I’m here a lot. I really don’t mind if you guys want some alone time.”

“Alone time,” Chowder repeated. Instead of saying anything else, he shuffled down until they were nose-to-nose, and he threaded their fingers together under the pillow. “I wouldn’t be alone with her.”

“Well...no, but like. Just the two of you.” An unpleasant feeling was squirming in his gut, like maybe he needed to be told he was welcome here, wanted, by both of them. He wasn’t used to feeling so insecure, and it was probably the impending virus that was about to explode just under his skin but...he couldn’t seem to help it.

Chowder seemed to sense that, and he cupped Nursey’s cheek, kissing him. It was a simple kiss, just the gentle press of lips before he pulled away. “We’d be lonely here without you,” he whispered.

It was all he needed. That simple, easy statement. Just confirming he was wanted. He was loved. His eyes shut and his shoulders relaxed. It was probably going to be a long week--midterms and a fucking cold but...with this, he could get through it.

With this, it was everything.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before Cait came back. He was too sleepy to open his eyes or move, but he felt Chowder shift over to make room for her. The two of them were sat up, and he could hear the scrape of forks on plates.

“Should we wake him?” Chowder asked. “He should eat.”

“He will. I think he needs sleep more than food though,” Cait replied.

Nursey felt her brush the backs of her knuckles along his temple, then down his cheek.

“He’ll be alright,” Chowder said.

Nursey couldn’t muster enough energy to smile then, but it was okay. His heart was singing. This was his. All of his. And god, he was loved.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nursey Week Day Three: Overindulge
> 
> Pairing: Nursey/Chowder (past Chowder/OFC)
> 
> Rating: Gen
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of transphobia, and alcohol consumption

It was definitely past midnight, and there definitely should not have been anyone pounding on his door. He was grateful his roommate wasn’t in, otherwise he’d be dealing with some salty as fuck white boy--again-- pissed off at him--again-- for interrupting his sleep. Again. And nine times out of ten it was someone from the damn team anyway like stoned Shitty who wanted to reminisce, or Ransom and Holster deciding it was time for Frog initiation.

But he didn’t think there was any of that going on, so he stumbled from the bed, muttered, “Yeah yeah, on my way. Chill,” as he shuffled across the room.

He narrowly avoided a stack of empty pizza boxes, and kicked a half-full bottle of coke out of the way to fling the door open.

He could have predicted a thousand things, but Chris Chow with his face splotchy, his Sharks hoodie soaked, and tear tracks on his cheeks, was not one of them. Chowder’s eyes widened and he stepped back.

“Oh. You’re not Dex.” His words were definitely less pronounced than usual, a slight slur which meant he’d been into booze from...somewhere. Which was unlike Chowder to get schwasted on a Wednesday.

“Uh, no. Obviously. He’s there.” Nursey nodded his head across the hall. Chowder attempted to step backward, but tripped over his own feet and only just didn’t fall as Nursey caught his arm. “Dude, it’s usually me falling all over myself. What the fuck is up?”

Chowder looked at him, then his chin trembled and his hands balled into fists. “Um. Dex said I could...well he was there and I...it’s late but...”

Nursey sighed. He was tired but...whatever. Sleep was for the weak. “Come on. Dex will just bite your fucking head off for interrupting his beauty sleep or whatever.” Which probably wasn’t true--Dex wasn’t ever really mean to Chowder, but the goalie looked seriously upset and Nursey wasn’t just going to let him stand there.

After a moment’s hesitation, Chowder walked into the room. For all that he was definitely three sheets to the wind, his reflexes were still on point and he managed to avoid most of what was strewn across the floor.

He threw himself on Nursey’s bed and laid there, all soaking wet. “Fuck man, at least take that shit off.” When Chowder made no move to do that, Nursey rolled him over, and tugged at the zip on his hoodie.

After a second, Chowder sat up in alarm and slapped his hand away. “Don’t! It’s broken.”

“What?” Nursey asked with a frown.

He watched as Chowder’s cheeks went mottled pink, and he crossed his arms tight over his chest. “Um. My binder. Broke. It’s broken.”

“Oh. Shit, dude. Are you wearing it still?”

Still blushing, Chowder shrugged. “Um. Well I was out when it happened. It was hot and too tight and I couldn’t stop crying and Will had a pocket knife so I tried to...cut it off.”

“Oh my god. You two are...” Nursey sighed, then turned and went to his little wardrobe and rummaged until he found the SMH hoodie he’d ordered, but it had arrived a size too small. Which was about a size too big for Chowder. He turned and handed it over. “Dude. Change. I won’t look. And take the broken binder off, please.”

Chowder pulled a face, but Nursey turned, hands on his hips and waited until he heard the wet hoodie hit the floor, then the wet t-shirt. Then the broken binder. When he heard a tiny, “Kay,” he turned back round and saw Chowder on the bed against the wall, his knees tucked to his chest.

Nursey sighed, then crawled up next to him. “You wanna talk about it?”

Chowder shook his head, then pushed his face into his knees. “I’m so drunk.”

Nursey laughed. “Yeah bro, I kinda noticed that. Uh. But like...why?”

“She.” Chowder swallowed thickly. “Allie. Allie and I split up.”

Nursey’s face fell. “Ah shit, man. I’m sorry. Did uh...I mean was it mutual or...?”

Chowder shook his head. “I mean I guess. Maybe if I had known I woudn’t have...” He sighed, and Nursey thought he might stop talking, but he didn’t. His voice was still muffled, pressed into his knees, but his words rang out clear and harsh. “She likes girls.”

Nursey frowned. “Uh.”

“I mean...she only likes girls. She didn’t tell me that before, because she likes me. Tonight I told her...I came out. As bi. We were just having a little wine and she said she was a lesbian and I said but I’m a boy and she just laughed and said...kinda. Then she went real quiet and then she said, Shit, you’re a boy. It all made sense and...and um.”

Nursey pressed his hand to the centre of Chowder’s back. “Is this okay?”

Chowder nodded, face still against his knees. “I wanna be so mad. But I’m not. I’m just hurt, and that’s even stupider. I can be so stupid sometimes.”

“Fuck no. No one gets to decide how you feel about someone else’s actions but you, Chris. You’re allowed be hurt, okay? You’re allowed to not be mad.”

Chowder sighed, then turned his face toward Nursey. “I’m really drunk. I drank too much. Dex was there and after I broke my binder he took me to Jerry’s and we got chicken tenders and then I cried and then said I was going back to the haus. But I never got there.”

Nursey scrubbed a hand down his face. “You could have called me. I’d have been there.”

Chowder shrugged. “I liked her. I thought she said it because I told her I had a crush on another guy and she was mad. But I guess she got hung up on the whole...body. Thing.”

Nursey bit his lip. “How can I help?”

“This is nice. This is good.” Chowder closed his eyes and he swayed a little, but Nursey kept his grip firm, keeping the goalie upright. “Sometimes I’m alright. I’m a really good goalie, and I even got Jack’s dibs. And sometimes I realise I’m not gonna be in the NHL like...ever. And sometimes I’ll date people and I won’t know they want me for...the wrong reasons.”

Nursey would never understand. He could get angry, and he could get protective because he liked Chowder. A lot. He’d been crushing on the quirky, adorable goalie since he’d met him. Chowder was one of the first people Nursey came out to as gay, the first person to tell him it was no big deal--and that the team wouldn’t care. And they hadn’t. Chowder had been right. So the idea of anyone hurting him, or making him feel wrong, sent a fire under his skin.

But he knew better than to fight Chowder’s battles for him. He knew better than to give more than Chowder asked for. So he closed his eyes, he breathed, he tried to find his chill.

“You wanna cuddle?” Nursey offered after a while.

Chowder blinked his eyes open. “Like. Here? In your bed?”

Nursey couldn’t help a laugh. “Ch’yeah. Where else? I mean we could go invade Dex’s bed but his mattress sucks and it smells in there, and I think his roommate is home anyway.”

After a second, Chowder nodded, and wriggled out of his jeans so he was in jsut the hoodie and boxers. Nursey made room under the blankets, and they settled together, Chowder facing the wall, Nursey facing Chowder’s back. After a moment, Nursey put his hand at Chowder’s waist and the goalie tucked himself backward, right into Nursey’s space.

“Feels nice.”

“Yeah,” Nursey breathed.

Another moment of silence before Chowder said, “You like boys.”

Nursey blinked, startled. “Uh. Yeah I told you that.”

With a nod, Chowder sighed. “Would you ever like me? I like you. I um...you were the one I told Allie I had a crush on and she’s always been kinda jealous of my relationship with you and Dex and um...” He stopped.

Nursey let himself feel it for a moment, then pushed his face against the back of Chowder’s neck. “Yeah. I like you. I’ve liked you for like...a really long time. Bitty knows.”

Bitty had caught Nursey drunk one night, on tub juice, and waxing poetic about Chowder’s...well...everything.

“He promised he wouldn’t say anything because you and Allie seemed happy,” Nursey finished.

Chowder put his hand light and tentative on top of Nursey’s. “Um. You maybe wanna get Annie’s tomorrow?”

“Like a date?” Nursey asked, unable to hide his grin, though he pushed it up against Chowder’s warm skin.

“Yeah. Like a date.”

“Okay,” Nursey said. Then after a minute, “If you change your mind tomorrow after you sober up, I’ll understand. You’re important to me. Like...I’m gonna be here no matter what.”

Chowder breathed out through his nose, and shuffled back even more until he was firmly in the circle of Nursey’s arms. “Sometimes I wish I could stay like this forever. Just...just this.”

“I’d be down with that,” Nursey replied quietly.

Chowder sighed, and his breathing started to even out. “Derek?”

“Mm?”

“I’m not gonna change my mind.”

Nursey grinned, then pressed his lips, soft and dry, to the back of Chowder’s neck. “Okay.” He smiled. “Okay.” He kissed his neck again. “Swawesome.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nursey Week Day Four: Sensitive
> 
> Pairing: Nursey/Jack
> 
> Rating: Gen
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of anxiety attacks, sensory overload, self-deprecation

If you asked Derek Nurse during his Frog year where he pictured himself in five years, he would not have told you, ‘The live-in boyfriend of the first out NHL star.’ He would not have told you, ‘A bookshop owner taking an amateur cooking class because I think my boyfriend misses freshly prepared things.’

And yet, here he is.

Nursey is a lot of things. A poet--sometimes. A really decent business man. He’s attractive, and tall. He’s clumsy, but he manages to make it endearing. He’s a lover of languages--presently he speaks four fluently, and he’s conversational in six.

But he’s not a cook, and he’s definitely not a baker. And he’s most absolutely not secure in the fact that Jack loves him. Which in hindsight is stupid. But Nursey hasn’t ever really been good at understanding Jack.

It’s a trial-by-error sort of relationship and some days he’s really not sure how he actually ended up here.

Sure it started with graduation. It started with looking over to see his former Captain, and Bittle’s ex boyfriend, cheering him on as he walked across the stage. It started with a small grin, as their eyes met, and it ended with a stolen kiss over one too many margs at Jerry’s.

Jack, somehow, had been convinced to wear the sombrero, and Nursey had laughed so hard he fell off the stool. Jack caught his arm and their gazes locked. Then someone shouted, “Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!” It was the most bullshit, romance movie crap Nursey had ever seen.

But then Jack did. 

And then he fled.

Four months later Nursey got a text from a number he didn’t recognise. He was just starting out at Wild Horse Publishing, and he’d even changed his number, so finding out the person who sent, “I was an asshole, I’m sorry,” was the private number of Jack Zimmermann--Stanley Cup winning Jack Zimmermann--was a surprise.

Nursey had sent back a chirping, “New number, who dis,” as a joke.

But in response he replied, “Sorry. Is this Derek Nurse?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Jack Zimmermann.”

It ended with a request for coffee, and a confession.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you. I found you attractive, and I was drunk. I was feeling hurt and lonely and I misread the signs. I really hope you can forgive me.”

Derek Nurse had been smooth exactly one time in his life, and it was this time. “You can make up for it by taking me to dinner.”

There was a kiss that time, too, only because Derek put his hand on Jack’s cheek and said, “Can we try it again? The right way?”

He didn’t really know what gave him the balls to ask Jack out. He hadn’t really known Jack well his freshman year. He was his captain, and they spent a lot of tine together on roadies, but it was rarely beyond hockey talk. Bittle was the one who held them all together. He’d been their glue. Bittle had turned what would have been a tense, ugly friendship between him and Poindexter into something that lasted. Maybe it was mostly facebook these days, but he supposed that was life.

So having Jack in his arms, being crowded up against Jack’s bedroom door and kissed within an inch of his life...he hadn’t expected it. At all.

Two years later and he’s still confused. Two years later and he doesn’t know how he got here and it’s...kind of a lot. The worst, Derek supposes, are the tiny reminders round Jack’s apartment that still exist from a time when it was JackandBitty. When the haus and probably the world thought Jack Zimmermann was going to marry the adorable blonde he kissed as he held the cup over his head.

No one had expected it to burn hot, then flicker out so fast.

He didn’t think Jack expected Bitty to somehow find his way into the arms of Kent Parson, either, but Jack never talked about that. Jack never talked about Bitty to anyone. Ever.

And it was like an itch living under Derek’s skin. It made touch sometimes unbearable. Like when he goes through the kitchen to see if they have a sauce pan so he can heat up leftover pho and he finds some funky looking, cast iron contraption.

Asking Jack about it later will result in, “It used to be Bittle’s. I guess he left it. He probably doesn’t want it back if it’s been this long.”

The pot goes back into the cabinet, and it’s never mentioned again. But it sits there, mocking Derek, making him ache like he’s got a fever because he feels like he’s living up to this echo of a relationship that should have lasted and...didn’t.

He loves Jack. He thinks he loves Jack. He’s pretty sure Jack loves him. But they never say it.

His publishing house job was agony, and it was Jack who talked him into opening up the bookshop. “You know what people want,” Jack had told him, his head pillowed in Derek’s lap. One hand crept under the hem of Derek’s shirt, tracing abs not nearly as defined as Jack’s, but still not bad. “You know how to find the diamonds in the rough, and I think that’s what people are really looking for.”

That’s what Derek ended up calling it. Jack was a silent partner, but Derek had enough inheritence to draw on so it wasn’t really necessary. But he liked having this little secret with Jack--a thing that was just theirs, a thing that existed after everything else. It wasn’t tainted with memories of Parse, or Bittle. Not even Shitty, or anyone else from the haus.

And it felt good most of the time.

But not everything did. Like tonight, his failed attempt at chicken parm in spite of doing really well in class. It made the apartment smell like burnt ass and he hadn’t been able to air it all out before Jack walked in.

Derek could see the way his nose wrinkled, and fuck he really loved Jack’s nose. It was his favourite part of Jack’s face--which maybe sounds stupid, but he can’t help it. His second favourite thing are Jack’s fingers--long and kind of thick, but delicate in the strangest way. And then can draw noises out of Derek like nothing else in the world can.

His disappointment is palpable though, because the food should have been great, and instead it’s a disaster. He tried not to think of it like a metaphor for their relationship--something that could have been perfect, but wasn’t becasue he just couldn’t get his shit together.

And it’s that thought that sends him spiralling. He’s sitting down against the cupboard, breathing too fast, and too shallow by the time Jack finds him. All the lights are too fucking bright, and even the faint breeze from the window feels like hot coals against his skin. With his hands in his hair, he pressed his face to his knees hard and managed a whimpering sound.

It’s maybe luck, or maybe not--but Jack was able to recognise exactly what was happening, and got Derek to his feet, and into the bedroom with the door closed. The black-out curtains existed in the apartment before Derek did, but he was grateful for them just then because every sound, every light was blocked out.

There was a faint haze coming from under the door, but that was okay. The bed beneath him was not too warm, not too soft. Jack didn’t touch him again, but Derek felt him laying close.

“Sorry,” he muttered after some time. It might have been minutes, might have been hours. Jack’s attitude wouldn’t give it away because for all that he was hard to read, he never, ever, let Derek think that dealing with anxiety and everything else he had going on was a chore.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jack asked. Derek’s grateful Jack didn’t dismiss the apology, but also didn’t make him feel obligated to have given one.

He swallowed, and sighed. “I fuck everything up. I don’t...I don’t know why I’m here. I think I love you,” he paused then because it was the first time he voiced it. He didn’t regret it, but he thought maybe that was a shitty way to bring it up like that. He peered one eye open, and Jack was watching him, but his expression was calm and neutral. “I’ve never been in love before, but I like what we have. But I’m not any good at it, and I’m not sure if you want me here because you’re lonely or...”

He stopped, and Jack waited a breath for him to re-centre himself. “Do you want a reply, or was that rhetorical?”

Derek stared. “Do you have a reply?”

Jack laughed very softly, not mocking, just sweet. “I have several. But I can keep them to myself if you’re not asking for validation.”

Derek gritted his teeth, then let a sharp breath out through his nose and said, “Fine. Validate me.”

Jack’s grin widened, and he put his hand on the pillow close to Derek’s cheek, but still not touching. “I love you.” He paused then, because Derek sucked in a breath and it was loud. “I do. I’m not...I’ve never been good at discussing my feelings. Once upon a time I did, and they were used against me. And it’s been long enough I should be over that fear, but I’m not. I trust you though. Beyond all reason. And I’m sorry I never said it before. I love you, Derek. I want you here because you’re kind, and sweet. You try your best at everything and even your failings feel like triumphs sometimes, and I envy that. Every time I miss a goal, it feels like I’ve let down everyone I’ve ever cared about. When you burn chicken it feels like you’ve just conquered a Herculean task. I don’t know why. I’ve asked myself a thousand times, but I haven’t ever come up with an answer.”

Derek blinked, his throat tight. He cleared it, but he couldn’t make words come, so he just nodded.

“I guess, ultimately, I want you here just because I want you here. My life would feel empty without you. Not because I’d be alone, but because you wouldn’t be in it.”

“Do you love me the same way you loved Eric?” he chanced.

Jack shook his head, but before Derek could feel his heart break, Jack spoke. “The way I love you is not the same. It isn’t less, it isn’t more. I had to learn a long time ago how toxic it was to compare myself, and to compare others. So I don’t. I’m happy.”

“You don’t miss him?” Derek pressed.

Instead of answering, Jack pushes himself up slightly onto one elbow. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

Letting out a sharp breath, Derek rolled onto his back, letting one hand fall over his face. “It’s so fucking stupid, I know. It’s been for-fucking-ever and you and Bitty are friends, and it hasn’t been a thing. But you never talk about him like...ever. Shit, you came out for him. Like in front of the entire fucking world, and then he was gone and you never say anything. He was...I mean I was there when it was the two of you. I was part of that. And it’s like you amputated that part of your past. And I don’t know why. I don’t know if it’s because you miss him so fucking much you can’t bear to think about it or...because I just don’t measure up so you try not to remember or...”

“You’re nothing like him,” Jack agreed. “And I do miss him sometimes. Twitter friends isn’t the same, and he was...he is...a good person. But he’s happy and I don’t regret what we had. I don’t talk about it because...” Jack shrugged, and hovered his hand over the centre of Derek’s chest. After a second, Derek huffed and grabbed him by the wrist, tugging him down. He felt an immediate relief as the warmth of Jack’s palm spread out across his skin. “I dont’ talk about it because it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to forget, or pretend. But I’m happy.”

Derek was unable to help the sharp intake of breath, because he suspected Jack was mostly happy, but he was pretty sure he’d never heard the words so exact before. And it resonates because shit, he is too. And yeah, he actually does love Jack.

Trying to think about his life without Jack in it feels like being stabbed in the chest, and he didn’t ever want to live with that kind of pain. Rolling toward his boyfriend, Derek reached up, tracing the side of Jack’s nose with the one curled knuckle.

“I love your stupid face.”

“It’s stupid, eh?” Jack asked.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Can you shut up with the chirps and just kiss me for like...a really fucking long time? Then get me take-out because I seriously, seriously fucked the chicken up. There is no saving it.”

“I think I can do that,” Jack said. He pressed his palm to Derek’s cheek and gently eased him over. The kiss started tentative, because Jack was obviously still attuned to Derek’s panic attack and sensory over-load. But it deepened quickly, Derek fisting his hands in the front of Jack’s shirt, and Jack pinning him to the bed.

Neither of them were up for more than that, but it was okay. That had never been an issue. In fact, when Derek thought about it, they were freakishly compatible in a lot of ways and it should maybe worry him, but it didn’t.

Kissing, and holding, and being held felt too fucking good to bother with worry.

At the end of the night, it ended with take-away. It ended with the two of them curled up on the sofa eating mostly garlic bread because they both loved it so damn much, and chirping the sport reporters who were still--after all this time--desperate to see Jack fail.

“Look at him, trying to play it fucking cool with that receding hairline. Jesus. White dudes.”

Jack frowned. “What about mine?”

“Well you’re Israeli Jewish, plus your dad’s Bad Bob so you’ve got some pretty fucking amazing hair genetics. I think you’ll be alright, for a white boy.”

Jack laughed, then kissed him. It wasn’t the best kiss, a little sour and garlicky from the bread but he didn’t care. For all that it mattered to Derek, it was the best fucking kiss in the world.

He settled against Jack’s chest as Jack put on Netflix. They were working their way through House of Cards, and it was fucking perfect.

“I love you,” he murmured during the opening credits.

Jack looked down, his blue eyes heavy and sleepy, his smile soft and fucking gorgeous. “I love you too.”

“You wanna say it more?” Derek asked.

He died a little when Jack’s smile went brighter, and he touched the side of Derek’s face before saying, “Yeah. I think I could live with that.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nursey Week Day Five: Tomorrow
> 
> Pairing: Nursey/Tater
> 
> Rating: Gen
> 
> Warnings: None

He wasn’t even sure what kind of picture he made, really, if anyone walked in and saw him right then. Curled up on the new sofa, the TV blaring some BBC show, a blanket wrapped round his body, showing only his face, and the one arm which was slowly bringing chocolate after chocolate into his mouth.

He had one box already empty, the other spread across his lap with little pockets full of half-eaten ones with the nasty filling he wasn’t going to finish. His stomach was starting to protest at all the sugar, but he didn’t give a fuck.

It was Thursday, it was the 14th, it was Valentine’s Day.

It was also his birthday.

And it’s not like everyone forgot, it was just he got the same answer he got every year. “Man, I have plans that night. We should totally celebrate your birthday tomorrow.”

And it wasn’t like he wanted to begrudge his friends a night out with their sweetheart. Or that tomorrow was really ever a big deal. But every year he had his small, existential crisis realising that no matter what, no matter how long he lived, or even who he ended up with, the Lover’s Day was probably going to take priority. He might meet someone who understood, and accepted his birthday, but the obligation would always be there. He’d be giving a gift as he received his own.

He would always have to share.

Such a stupid thing to be bitter about, really. He tried not to give a shit about his birthday. Why put so much emphasis on something so ordinary as being born. People did it every day.

But as chill as he said he was, it still hurt.

He was just lifting another chocolate to his mouth when he heard a knocking on the door. He sighed. No one was supposed to be home for hours, if at all. Bits was in Providence with Jack, Holster and Rans were--he wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to know. Chowder and Cait were at the Volleyball team V-day party, and Dex had tagged along when Nursey made it obvious he wasn’t interested in sharing his chocolate or his Netflix Pity-Fest.

With a groan, he considered getting up, but he knew the door was unlocked, so he let his head drop to the sofa arm and shouted, “Yeah! Come in!” He heard the knob turn. “Please also like...don’t be an axe murderer. I really don’t wanna get axe murdered on my birthday.”

“Is your birthday? You’re all alone!”

The voice was familiar, in that sort of by-proxy, Bitty’s constant running of Falconers’ TV on his laptop way, and Nursey let out a slightly undignified noise as he tried to straighten up.

None other than Alexei Mashkov--the subject of Ransom’s obscene crush, and one of the top men on the Falconers--walked in. He was dressed casual, jeans and a t-shirt, a coat on, and beanie worn loose and back over his brown curls. He had his usual grin, though his brows were furrowed in concern.

“Itty Bitty say no one else home. But why he is leaving you alone on your birthday?”

Nursey cleared his throat. He’d met Mashkov exactly two times--once when Jack snuck him to a kegster, and once when they’d been invited to a playoff game last year and got to hang with the guys at a bar. He and Mashkov--along with Poots and Snowy, had played a game of darts. Mashkov had dragged Nursey onto his team saying, “Poots is missing every shot. Want to win.”

And they had. By a narrow margin. But it meant Poots and Snowy buying a round.

He hadn’t really talked much to them, though, apart from chirps and cheers.

So.

This was...awkward.

It got even more awkward when Mashkov pushed Nursey’s feet over slightly and sat, like Nursey wasn’t all curled up on the sofa with a blanket and Valentine chocolates like some sort of bridge troll. He swiped at his mouth, hoping he didn’t have chocolate or filling on his face.

“Uh. So it’s Valentine’s Day,” Nursey said, way too late. They’d been silent like...a really long time.

“I’m know. Everyone out on nice date, nice dinner. Have too much wine. Guys on team go home, make new babies.”

Nursey laughed, unable to help it. “Every year, huh?”

“Some years,” Mashkov said with a shrug. “Maybe make me godfather this time, who knows. But is your birthday too? Why you are not being out with girlfriend?”

“Um.”

“Boyfriend,” Mashkov clarified.

Nursey blushed, but shrugged. “I don’t have either one of those. But seriously dude, I’m good. I literally do not care about either my birthday or Valentine’s Day.” When Mashkov gave a side-eye to the chocolate, he shrugged. “What? Chocolate’s fucking good and they always put the good shit out in February.”

Mashkov’s mouth quirked. “You are sharing? Or greedy on your birthday?”

Nursey handed over the box, and pretended not to notice that Mashkov kept calling it his birthday instead of Valentine’s Day. It was usually the former that was the afterthought in conversation, even when the person didn’t mean it. He watched as Mashkov selected one of the ones Nursey had already bitten into, and popped it in his mouth.

“Uh dude, you don’t have to eat my sloppy seconds.”

“Is okay, I’m like these flavours.” He grabbed another--one of the strawberry ones Nursey hated. “We make good team. I’m eat all ones you hate.” He settled back further against the sofa.

“Okay,” Nursey said slowly. “Uh. And not to be rude or whatever but like...are you here for a reason?”

“Oh! Yes, I’m return baking dish for Itty Bitty. He is saying bring by here since he and Zimmboni are...busy.”

Nursey rolled his eyes, but grinned. “Yeah, I’ll just fucking bet.” He shifted then, so he was sat upright a little more, and he watched Mashkov eat a few more of the chocolates. “I’m celebrating tomorrow.”

Mashkov turned toward him. “Tomorrow.”

Nursey nodded. “Yeah. With the haus. We’re doing my birthday celebration tomorrow.”

“But is birthday today. Tonight. Why they are not here having birthday fun with you?”

Nursey shrugged. “Dunno man. It’s Valentine’s Day. Gotta show that love, right?”

Mashkov’s face dropped into a frown. “But...” He paused, like he was searching for the words. “If they are being good boyfriends, they show love all the time. Not need one single night to show love. If they are being like this, maybe not such good boyfriends.”

“Seriously, it’s no big deal,” Nursey tried again.

Mashkov shook his head. “But maybe they celebrate tomorrow. Is only one day for your birthday. Should be happy such good friend--best poet, with best eyes, pretty smile--that he is being born. Should be having a party. They can be lovers some other night.”

Nursey was halfway sure he’d swallowed his tongue, because as hard as he was trying, he couldn’t make words work. He cleared his throat, and tried again. “Uh. Thanks?”

Mashkov grinned brightly. “How about I’m getting you dinner? Chocolate good, but maybe make feeling sick later?”

Nursey laughed. “Yeah. It’s already getting a little funky in there.”

With a nod, Mashkov rose and extended his hand. “You are showing me where to eat. Come on.”

Nursey wasn’t sure why he took the hand, why he let this near-stranger drag him to the door for his shoes, and his coat, and into the frigid February night, but he did.

He stopped dead at the end of the pavement when he saw the car. It was a small, bright yellow Corvette with a hard convertible top, and it was probably worth more than his life.

“Are you serious? Dude...that’s...I can’t ride in that.”

Mashkov blinked as he was about to push the button on his keys. “Is...not good car? You are not liking yellow? Or Corvettes? I’m have another, Jaguar, but is take me a long time to drive down and get.”

“What? Jesus fuck no,” Nursey blurted. “Dude chill, seriously it’s a nice fucking car and you absolutely do no not need to drive home to get your Jag. God.” He shook his head. “Just...what if I ate too much chocolate and like...puked in it?”

“Is okay. Is happen before. Someone clean, good as new.” Mashkov pushed the button, and the car alarm chirped.

Nursey, at this point, had no other choice but to climb in.

*** 

Finding food at Samwell at eight pm on Valentine’s Day was a shit-show. They managed to find this funky little food cart that sold Kebabs, and ordered a shit-load to take back to the haus.

By this point Nursey could tell Mashkov was flirting with him, and was standing close, and maybe there was something there. He sent a text to the group.

None of you had better come home tonight. If you love me, then let this be my gift.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT OUR BOI IS GETTING LAID

Dude git it, Nurse. Fucking git it.

Stay the fuck out of my room.

He turned off his notifications, and tried not to wonder if they’d show up anyway. He had a feeling it would be best to retreat to one of the other rooms. Maybe the attic, since that seemed safest, and since Ransom and Holster had fucked both each other and other dates pretty much everywhere else in the haus, it seemed like fair play.

“You wanna head upstairs?”

Alexei grinned, then nodded, hauling both drinks and food on his arm.

Nursey only realised his mistake when they stepped in, and they were immediately greeted with Alexei’s face plastered on the walls near the bottom bunk.

He froze, and turned slowly to see a huge smirk spreading across Alexei’s face. “You are fan?”

“Oh my god no. This is Ransom’s room. I don’t even live here. They just let me chill because the dorms suck.” He was flushed hot and he couldn’t meet Alexei’s eyes.

Alexei set the bags down, then bent over and hummed. “Is not best angle, I think. Maybe I’m call them, do another. Maybe show some abs.”

“Oh my god,” Nursey breathed as Alexei turned with a huge smile.

“You putting my poster up?”

Nursey dragged a hand down his face. “Dude, wouldn’t that be like...weird? I mean Bits doesn’t even have Jack’s poster. The most he has is that little lego dude.”

Alexei brightened. “I’m have one. You keep? For when you missing me?”

Nursey tried to answer, but Alexei was crowding into his space. Giant hands came up, brushing across his cheeks, over his shoulders.

“Is okay?” Alexei whispered.

“Yeah,” Nursey managed. He stepped in a little closer, and he wanted. Jesus.

Alexei nodded, leaning in, dragging his lips along the cut of Nursey’s jaw. “Maybe tonight is good--your friends not here. Then I’m have. They have you tomorrow but right now...”

“Yes. Yeah. Fuck,” Nursey said. It had been a really long time since he’d been this close to anyone and damn. Damn. Alexei was certainly a nice fucking way to break his dry-spell. “Is this...uh. Before we start is this like...a one time thing? Or do you uh...”

“I’m think about you sometimes. When we play darts.” Alexei picked up Nursey’s hand and kissed the centre of his palm. “We win. Want to kiss but...was being not sure.”

“Fuck. You remember that?” Nursey gasped out as Alexei bit lightly on the end of his finger.

“I’m remember. Yes. Was nice. Cute guy, making good game, we are winning. I’m ask Jack but he say maybe you are seeing someone else on team.”

Nursey shook his head. “No. No I...haven’t in like a really long time.”

“So I’m stay tonight. Get your number for after. Bring Jag next time. Better car.”

“Oh my god that wasn’t what I meant,” Nursey started to defend, but his words were cut off when lips met his, and he was dragged toward the bed.

*** 

The next morning he woke with a light kiss against his temple, and whispered words, “I’m have early skate. Have to go. Leave you my number. Text soon. Happy birthday.”

He rolled over and smiled into Ransom’s pillow and didn’t feel at all bad about it.

He smiled even bigger when he heard Ransom and Holster shout, “WHAT THE FUCK? MASHKOV!” after the front door slammed shut.

He put his arms behind his head, stretched his legs, and thought how the first tomorrow after his birthday had never felt so damn good. And he had a feeling a lot of tomorrows after this, were going to feel even better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nursey Week Day Six: Dreamer
> 
> Pairings: Nursey/Chowder/Farmer
> 
> Rating: Gen

He was half asleep. It was one of those afternoons, just past winter when spring warmth startled everyone outside. Like they’d momentarily forgotten what it was like to lay spread out in the sunshine on a patch of grass. In small corners and pockets of shadow near tall buildings, snow still existed where the sun never hit. But this...

This was what Nursey might call perfection, if he was feeling poetic.

They’d been watching the clouds. Cait had made a game of it, trying to find the most absurd shapes in them. Nursey was never any good at it, so it was mostly left to her and Chris as he just lay there trying to suss out the images they claimed to see.

Part of him thought they did it just to fuck with him.

“Look, I swear it’s two hyena in a fight.”

“Yeah, Cait! I totally see it.”

If Nursey squinted, it kind of looked like a duck but...really it didn’t matter. He was warm and comforable. His head was pillowed on Chris’ thigh, the fingers of his left hand buried in Nursey’s hair. Cait sat beside them, wearing Nursey’s green hat backward, grinning like she was made of sunshine.

He was sleepy, dreams niggling at the edges of his mind, trying to draw him away from reality and into them. Normally he liked that. He got his best, most creative ideas in his sleep.

His moms had always called him a dreamer. He would lay for hours sometimes, when he was a kid, his eyes half-lidded, stuck somewhere between sleep and awake. He’d tell stories after. His mama listened with rapt attention, and more than once she’d used his ideas in books of hers.

She’d come home from signings to tuck him into bed and say, “That one was for you, ya Danaaya.” In the mornings over pancakes he’d tell her what else he’d come up with.

When he went off to Samwell his mom kissed him and said, “Be brave, little dreamer.” It felt ridiculous, how it had made him tear up. He wasn’t going far, he’d see her all the time. But it felt like an ending and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

But he had this now. Never in his dreams had he pictured this. Not love, anyway. Not acceptance. Not understanding the way Chris and Cait gave it so readily, without asking for anything in return.

Soft kisses, warm arms at night. It had been so long since he knew what lonely felt like. Even this, as he drifted, he couldn’t dream of anything better. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He found himself, still sleepy, grabbing Chris’ wrist and pressing soft kisses to the pads of each finger. He dared a look up, to see Chris smiling down at him. Not expecting more, not accusing, just understanding that it was a gesture of love. Maybe thanks, even. For loving him right back.

Cait eventually got tired and shuffled round to press the side of her face against his belly. “Uhg I can’t wait til you’re done with hockey. Neither of you are soft.”

“Chris is never gonna be done,” Derek murmured.

She huffed. “Fine. You be done with it, then. Get a tum. Let us be the buff ones.”

Derek absently reached down, squeezing her bicep, and she laughed, pushing his hand away. “Okay, babe.”

She grinned at him, and he poked her nose, then closed his eyes as Chris started talking about Lardo’s latest project. He wasn’t talking to be heard, just to soothe, Derek knew. His voice rising and falling over conversational notes. His hand hadn’t ceased brushing through Derek’s hair. Cait was talking back now, and Derek was drifting again.

The sun felt too good. His lovers too soft to stay awake.

He closed his eyes and saw their faces, and he smiled.


	7. Chapter 7

Nursey Week Day Seven: Red

Pairing: Nursey/Ransom/Tater

Rating: Gen

Warnings: cathartic bashing of heart-shaped valentine items. I share Nursey’s birthday, so trust me, I know he would enjoy this.

*** 

Red. Nursey was seeing red. 

Literally.

It was god knows what the fuck o’clock in the morning, and he’d opened his eyes to see nothing but red. He blinked several times, scrubbing the sleep away. The fact that everything in the immediate area was a bright, Valentine red was disconcerting to say the least, and if it wasn’t for the pounding of his heart in his chest, he’d have thought he was still asleep.

He heard Tater’s giggle first, and the quiet, “I’m think he’s waking up now.”

Nursey’s vision cleared enough to realise what was hovering over him was a cluster of heart-shaped, red balloons tied with string. He pushed them out of his face and sat up, looking to his left where Tater stood.

The giant Russian, who had spent the weekend over at their Boston apartment, was kneeling on the bed holding the cluster of balloons in his hand. He was grinning, still sleep-rumpled, hair in disarray.

Justin wasn’t far off, stood near the door with his arms full of...Nursey squinted. They looked like giant, stuffed hearts, and a box of chocoate? He then realised the end of the bed was covered in heart-shaped chocolate boxes.

“Happy birthday!” Justin crowed.

Tater leant in, pushing his nose right up against Nursey’s temple. The balloons gave an irritating, latex squeak as he whispered, “S dnem rozhdeniya.” His breath was hot against Nursey’s face, and Nursey shivered.

“Um. Not that I don’t appreciate the uh...balloons and stuff...” Which was a lie. Nursey’s least favourite part of his birthday was sharing it with this dumb holiday which ensured at least half his gifts had some sort of Valentine theme. The worst was having a box of chocolates shoved at him with the sentiment, “Happy Birthday and Valentine’s day,” as though he should thank the person for combining the two.

He tried to be chill about it but...

It didn’t always work.

Both his boyfriends were grinning though. “Babe,” Justin said, walking further into the room. “These are your gifts.”

Nursey blinked. “Uh. Balloons? And chocolates?”

Justin’s smile widened, and Alexei rose from the bed, digging into his pocket. He palmed something, then handed the strings on the balloons over to Nursey. “No. Is only part of your gift. Not best part.”

Nursey, Tango-levels of so confused, took the balloons and continued to stare. He didn’t want to believe his boyfriends would be dickish enough to throw him a Valentine themed birthday but...

“This is gift.” Alexei brandished something small and shiny in his palm. Nursey stared, but didn’t touch.

“Is that a fucking pocket knife?”

Alexei grinned, nodding. “Yes!”

Nursey dragged a hand down his face, then turned to Justin who was now holding out a hockey stick. “Okay what the fuck. What is going on?”

Justin let out a giggle. “Babe, okay we know how much Valentine’s Day sucks. Like...we know how you feel. So we got you Office Space.”

Nursey glanced at the clock. “It is seven in the morning. Make more sense!”

Justin snorted. “The knife is for the balloons. To pop them. And to maybe you know...mutilate the stuffed hearts? And the hockey stick is to bash up the chocolate boxes.”

He blinked at them. “Uh. You’re serious?”

For the first time, both of them started to look a little uneasy. Justin set the hockey stick aside, and let the stuffed heart and chocolate box fall to the bed. He climbed up next to Nursey, and touched the side of his face.

“Babe, we know you love your chill, but we also know how fucked this time of year is. I figured it would be...cathartic to bash the shit out of the stuff you hate. Then next year when some asshole in your office gives you a stuffed dog holding a heart for your present, it might not feel so...terrible.”

A slow smile was breaking across Nursey’s face. The idea had merit. The idea had appeal. The idea was the sweetest and most thoughtful thing Nursey had ever heard and it was making him want to pin both of them to the bed and fuck them until neither of them could breathe.

But stabbing heart-shaped balloons with a pocket knife also sounded pretty sweet.

He leant in, kissing Justin softly before pulling away and saying, “You two wanna help?”

Justin laughed. “Ch’yeah. We’re not gonna let you have all the fun.”

*** 

Ten minutes later, surrounded by cotton stuffing, bits of battered latex, and the corpses of chocolate heart boxes--the chocolates mostly gone since Tater had thought it was such a waste to let something so delicious go to waste--the three of them lounged on the bed with a large tea tray full of french toast, coffee, and juice.

Nursey leant his head on Alexei’s shoulder, smiling when warm lips pressed to his temple. “Was good birthday, mishka?”

Nursey grinned, looking over at Justin who had a bit of latex stuck to the side of his head. He reached out, plucking it off and letting it flutter to the floor. “That was like...the best present ever.”

Justin smiled, careful not to dislodge the tray as he leant over Nursey, kissing him slow and deep. “Well that was only part one.”

“Oh yeah?” Nursey asked, shivering when a very large, very warm hand slid up under his shirt, splaying flat against his abs.

“Part two is in shower. In five minutes. You being ready?” Alexei whispered against his ear.

Nursey bit his lip, nodding, leaning into the warm arms now encircling him as the tray was pushed away, and lips began to find all his sensitive spots. “I’m ready. Fuck, I was born ready.”

“Good,” Justin said. “Because your birthday is just getting started, and we have a long way to go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on tumblr at [omgittybits](https://omgittybits.tumblr.com)


End file.
